


Tis the soozle

by MoonTearChild



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-18 04:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21838519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonTearChild/pseuds/MoonTearChild
Summary: Elliott's not feeling too great, so he decides to teach Octane an old family recipe.
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt/Octane | Octavio Silva
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	Tis the soozle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OhMyViolet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMyViolet/gifts).



Elliott's hands tremble as he sets the phone down on his work desk, sighing heavily. He runs his fingers through the hair that was over his face, working to calm his breathing down. He'd been sat there for hours now, finger over the call button, just trying to work up the courage to press down. 

"Dammit." He mumbles, swiping his arm across his face with a soft sniff. "Dammit, Elliott. Just call her. Stop being like this." He huffs out, face contorting with anger as he slams a hand down on his desk, sending loose sheets of paper tumbling to the floor. With a flash of dazzling blue light, a decoy springs into materialisation, standing still at his left for a moment before throwing a few finger guns to invisible fans with a coy grin. A twinge of anger sparks through him, and Elliott grabs his phone, throwing it at the apparition with a resounding thud as the mobile hit the wall, the decoy fizzling away into nothingness. 

Not a moment passes before the door of his study opens, and an all too familiar head pops in.

"I hear trouble." The voice teases, but stops quiet. "Amor?" Octavio asks softly, stepping into the room one slow step at a time, as not to overstep is bounds.

"Sorry. C-can we talk?" Comes Elliott's weak reply, opening his arms immediately for a hug which Octane meets half way, rubbing his hand along the man's back how he knew he liked. 

"Si, of course. What's wrong?"

Mirage shrugs, hesitating for a moment before giving in, shoulders slumped as he leans down to press his face into the crook of his boyfriend's neck. 

"Long day. I've been trying to get my decoys to work better for this event, but something just isn't right. And then, well, I tried to call my mom, because I usually do when I get frustrated, but…" he trails off, feeling the hot sting of tears in his eyes. "She's uh. Not doing so good." His voice is croaky, stubbornly wedged in his throat. 

"Is she sick?" Octavio prompts, trying to look into Elliott's eyes from the awkward angle. 

"Can… Can we talk about this another time? I just need a des- a d-da-d…" He cuts himself off, stiffening with annoyance. "I don't want to think about it." 

"You've come to the right guy. Octavio Silva, distraction master right here!" Octane laughs, grabbing Elliott's shoulders to make him stand straight. "What did you have in mind huh?" 

Mirage hums, scratching at his beard lethargically. He thinks, and eventually comes to a conclusion which makes his face light up, just a little. 

"I want to share a family tradition with you." He mumbles quietly, locking eyes with Octavio. 

"Oh, so you're saying I'm family, eh?" The speedster teases, cracking him a smile. 

"Of course. Got to make you an honorary Witt somehow, right?" Elliott grabs at Octavio's hand, beginning to lead him into their kitchen. 

"I can think of a better way." 

"Hey!" Elliott gasps, sounding mock offended. "I'm working on it, shush." 

"Wha-?" Octavio tries to splutter out, mouth agape and eyes wide. Seemingly out of his slump, Mirage grins, and grabs a large mixing bowl on the counter from a cupboard above his head. 

"So, I figured since it's the soozle for bamboozles, by yours truly, of course, that we could make some of grandma Witt's famous christmas cookies." He puts the bowl into Octavio's arms, humming as he turns around and begins to rummage for ingredients, leaving the man stood there, still shocked. 

Once he has a healthy amount of packages in his arms, he begins to spread them out over the countertop, nodding to himself. "Tavi, can you get my hair tye off the coffee table?" He asks, turning to the fridge to get the fresh ingredients to add. 

Octane is snapped out of his thoughts by this, and nods, setting down the bowl safely in the middle of the counter, jogging over to the living portion of the room to pick up the elastic. Elliott thanks him with a smile, combing his curls back through his fingers enough to gather his hair up into a bun at the crown of his head and securing it there with practiced ease. 

"We ready?" Octavio asks, bouncing on his feet impatiently.

"Not so fast, speed demon, wash those hands first." Elliott laughs, pulling the other man over to the sink and running the tap. 

Once clean and ready, Elliott begins the task of adding ingredients in one by one, occasionally asking Octavio to hand him certain things and explaining what they did as he went along. Cracking the second egg into the bowl with precision, he discards the shells into the bin and wipes his hands. "Okay, now the fun part." He sings, grabbing the whisk and handing it to Octavio. 

"Fast?" He asks, raising a brow.

"Fast." Elliott confirms, grinning as he watches Octane's eyes widen, and that familiar smirk grace his lips. He grips the whisk and sets it into the bowl, whipping his arm to the side and sending a cloud of flour up into the air that settled on his face. Elliott coughs, waving the residue out of the way with a laugh. "Okay, try this." He hums, moving to stand behind the smaller man and leaning his head down on his shoulder. He moves Octavio's arm to cup the bowl against his waist, and grabs the whisk hand, making soft turning motions to turn the flour into the mixture. "There, you're getting it. You'll be a master in no time." He smiles, placing a soft kiss on the man's cheek. "Yeah, now you can speed up."

He leaves Octavio to the mixture and steps away, heading back to the counter to set out another pair of bowls, mixing another lot of powders into them too. "What was Christmas like for you, back with your family?" He asks curiously, filling up water in a measuring jug to half between the bowls. 

"Me?" Octavio repeats, furrowing his brows. "Well, it wasn't even really a holiday. Just an excuse to get publicity I suppose, we'd attend all these fancy events, host a few too. Boring stuff, though I guess I can't complain - after all, that's where I met Ajay." He laughs, recalling the memory. "Remind me to tell you about that sometime. Anyways, the gifts were expensive and we had people make our food. There was nothing special in it at all. I'd love to have grown up like you." 

At this, Mirage's face twists into confusion. 

"Like… Like me? I didn't exactly grow up rich, you know." 

"Si, amor. That's what I mean. Your food has love in it, your presents had meaning behind them. Your family was… Ah, never mind, I'm rambling, ay?" He clears his throat, looking over to what Elliott was doing. 

"Sure, those noogies were full of love." He jokes, adding another drop of green to the bowl with a satisfied smile. "Bring that over here, time to rock and roll!" 

Octane snorts at the pun, setting the heavy bowl down to peer into the matching bowls of green and yellow. 

"What's this, cariño?" 

"Icing! I was thinking we could decorate these bad boys. I even got some cookie cutters too, check me out." He sweeps grandly over to the box of thematic cutters, nodding proudly.

"Don't need to tell me twice." 

Octavio watches with fascination as Elliott begins rolling the dough out with the pin, arms tensing with the movements. He lets out an appreciative whistle. 

"Mira, look at those guns." He calls, fanning his face with a grin. 

"You could help me you know." Elliott points out, a faux stern tone in his voice. 

"Hey, I'm only following your orders, amor. You're the boss here." He bats his eyelashes, seeing the shapes pressed down into the dough form as Elliott delicately sets them down onto the tray. "What are those supposed to be? Grenadas?" He points to the rounded shapes, raising a brow. Elliott shoots him an exasperated look in response.

"Baubles. Get into the spirit, Tavi! Jeez, I swear you have an unhealthy obsession with grenades." 

"Oh boo! You sound like Ajay, lighten up amigo!" He chuckles, winking.

"You're too funny, I can't handle it. Looks like I'm no longer the pun master." Mirage scoffs sarcastically. 

"You know, anyone can lighten up as much as I did when I lost twenty pounds." 

"Oh yeah, how'd you pull that off?" Mirage asks, sounding impressed.

"Lost both my legs." 

"Tavi, no!" 

Octane lets out a cackle, blowing a kiss to Elliott in response. 

"You love me." He soothes, watching the man as he sets the tray in the oven. Standing back to full height, Elliott stops, staring at Octavio with a quirked grin on his face. "What?" The trickster simply turns, grabbing a cloth and wetting it under the tap. Setting a hand under Octavio's chin, Elliott dabs the cloth across the man's nose, smiling sweetly. 

"You have flour on you." He laughs, staring into his eyes fondly. A moment passes in silence, until Octavio leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to his boyfriend's lips, lingering after until Elliott pulls him in again, cupping his cheek. 

"You look good with your hair like that." He points out, parting for air with a dopey grin. 

"Oh shush, I know you only love me for my cooking." Elliott jokes, setting down the cloth and pulling the shorter man into his arms. "But seriously. Thank you, Tav. I just… Really needed this today. I promise I'll tell you sometime but-"

"Elliott, it's fine. Don't rush yourself, amor. Except for those cookies, they might be burning." 

"Shit!"


End file.
